


a blurring haze came across your eyes

by theneverending



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hoth (Star Wars), Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentions of Death, Movie: Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, Rescue Missions, skysolo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25726387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theneverending/pseuds/theneverending
Summary: Han knows that this mission is guaranteed suicide, that once he leaves the rebel base and walks out into Hoth’s hazardous terrain, he will die.And yet, he does it anyway. Despite basically the entire rebel army begging Han not to go, saying that they already lost Luke, they can’t lose their captain too, but Han refuses to listen. He buttons up his parka, ignores Chewie’s roars of protest, and sets off on his Tauntaun.or, han risks his life to find luke, hoping he brings him back safely.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker/Han Solo
Comments: 6
Kudos: 186





	a blurring haze came across your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't seen anyone else write this scene so i knew i had to do it myself! i hope i did han and luke justice, i've been obsessed with them lately and i love this ship so much. please leave a comment and kudos if you enjoy!! :)

Han knows this mission is guaranteed suicide, that once he leaves the rebel base and walks out into Hoth’s hazardous terrain, he will die.

And yet, he does it anyway. Despite basically the entire rebel army begging Han not to go, saying that they already lost Luke, they can’t lose their captain too, Han refuses to listen. He buttons up his parka, ignores Chewie’s roars of protest, and sets off on his Tauntaun. 

The weather is biting, chills quickly crawling from Han’s exposed face down to the rest of his body. His parka’s padding doesn’t stand a chance out here, proving useless as the wind blows past him. He shivers on the Tauntaun, partially grateful that its stench isn’t as potent out in the elements. If this were Tatooine, the smell would’ve killed him by now.

_Tatooine, Luke’s home.  
_

These days, every thought that crosses Han’s mind leads back to Luke. The smuggler always finds a way to justify it, rationalizing that they spend all of their time together, sleeping one room away from each other on the Echo Base, crammed in a control room with hundreds of other people (granted, Han doesn’t think about _them_ like this). He and Luke are constantly at risk of being blown up by the Empire, so _of course_ there would be some sort of emotional connection there.

But the thought that keeps Han up at night is that his attachment to Luke is something beyond the normal bounds of friendship. Han never felt shy around the ladies, or the men, for that matter, not until he met Luke. Before him, Han’s feelings started and ended with a quickly-burning sexual desire, but now, he feels this intense longing, this _yearning_ to touch Luke in any way possible. On his delicate cheek, on the rough insides of his palm. His waist, his shoulders, other places too, of course, but it’s never been just about that. Luke is captivating in a way that Han doesn’t understand, possibly never will.

The wind picks up, whipping the fur of Han’s hood onto his cheek. Han tightens his grip on the Tauntaun’s reins and presses on. He can think about what all of this means when he (and more importantly, Luke) are not in mortal danger. 

☾

Three hours into riding, the blizzard hasn’t slowed down. The winds pick up, blowing so much snow through the air that it temporarily stops Han’s line of sight. If Han didn’t believe this was a suicide mission before, he surely does now. His line of sight is strictly limited, his hands are dry under his gloves, and the Tauntaun he’s riding is showing signs of weakness.

If Han’s in this bad of shape, he worries about Luke’s condition. 

Han reminisces about Luke now, about how he looked the day he sat across from him in Mos Eisley, his skin tanned and muscles toned from years of farming. He was so small then, nineteen and swallowed up in a tunic that was about three sizes too big for him, his blue eyes bright against the background of the dingy Cantina. Luke’s changed so much since then, his sandy hair losing its light while the color of his skin loses its dark. He’s more refined now, less bratty, less nosy, more in control of himself. Regardless of Han’s nickname for Luke, he simply isn’t a kid anymore, but he always will be to Han. Maybe that’s why he feels so fervent about risking his life for the younger man. 

Han knows that’s the short answer; Luke is too fragile yet too powerful to be lost to something as random and frightening as freezing to death. The kid that blew up the Death Star, the hero to the rebellion, dying out in the cold by pure unfortunate luck. The irony makes Han sick to his stomach, but that’s not all there is to it. 

The long answer is that Han feels more for Luke than he should. It’s the main reason he went on this suicide mission, isn’t it? 

Before Han can explore that thought deeper, he sees something in the distance. 

A mass, small and slightly darker than the vast spread of white snow. Han’s heart fills with hope as he snaps on the Tauntaun’s reins, calling out to Luke as the Tauntaun gallops faster toward what he believes, _hopes,_ is Luke.

As Han zeroes in on the anomaly, his heartbeat quickens as he recognizes the light outfit and olive skin that he’s come to know so well. It’s Luke, laying out in the open, face up to the sky. 

Han reins the Tauntaun in, jumping off its back before it comes to a stop. Han stumbles, uneasy from the long ride and the cold, but he’s still running, feet sinking into the snow as he runs to Luke. 

Wet spots form on his kneecaps as he kneels into the snow. As Luke becomes clearer in his blurred vision, Han sees what bad shape the kid is in. His breath hitches at the number of cuts on his face and how _still_ that face seems to be. 

Han runs a thumb over Luke’s cheek for the first (and possibly the last) time, meeting with frostbitten skin instead of the plush, boyish cheek Han previously expected. Regardless, the touch still fills Han with a feeling he can’t quite decipher, one of elation and dread all at the same time. Under different circumstances, this moment could’ve been beautiful. 

Instead, Luke is freezing, but still alive as far as Han can tell. Han is certain Luke is knocked out, which is probably for the best.

Han takes all of Luke in, his lips parted slightly, various lacerations across his forehead and cheeks. Crimson blood is caked on the side of his mouth, eyelashes coated with flakes of snow. 

“Oh, kid,” Han says softly. “ _Luke._ ” 

The slow rise and fall of his chest tells Han that Luke is breathing, but barely. Han moves his fingers down to Luke’s neck, pushing the hood of his vest out of the way as he searches for a pulse. Like his breathing, the pulse is faint, but still there. 

_Hope_. 

“Come on, kid, you can’t give up on me,” Han’s eyes sting. “Please.”

Luke stirs, groans. Han cups the younger man’s face again, the rogue bits of body heat transferring from Han to Luke. Luke pushes his cheek into Han’s palm, then starts rattling off phrases Han doesn’t recognize.

“Yoda, Dagobah system,” Luke’s voice is hoarse, the breathy tone of his voice almost completely gone. “Ben, Leia.” 

“I’m glad you’re talkin’, but you’ve gotta keep your energy,” Han says.

Luke goes quiet for a moment, then pushes his face into Han’s hand once more. 

“Han,” Luke whines. 

“I’m right here, kid. I’ve got you.” 

Hoth’s sun is setting, and Han knows they won’t last out in the open air at night. Han has no idea, no escape plan, no way to get out of this. Han’s never been the type to think more than five seconds ahead of himself, and for the most part, his intuition always saved his ass. This time is different: like Threepio said, the odds were heavily against one of them surviving, let alone _both_ of them. He sees no way out that doesn’t rely on pure luck, and yet, he’s still hopeful that it will work. It has to work, and if it doesn’t, Han feels content knowing he’d done all he can to protect Luke, even at the expense of his own well-being, possibly his life.

Han takes his eyes off of Luke for what seems like the first time in hours. He squints through the blizzard, searching for somewhere, _anywhere_ to shelter them from the storm. Only now does Han realize that the Tauntaun he rode here is gone, leaving him and Luke abandoned in the middle of nowhere.

In the distance, Han spots a higher ground, the lip of a cliff hanging above an empty space. 

Without hesitation, Han puts one arm under Luke’s back, the other under his lean legs, hoisting him up. Han’s weak from the cold, his joints locking and begging to rest, but he refuses. Luke is listing off names again, his head lolling into Han’s chest. His lips are bruised and pouted, and to Han, he appears more fragile than ever. 

“Han, Han, Han,” Luke says like an incantation. 

Han uses his limited energy to lean down and press his lips against Luke’s forehead. He doesn’t quite kiss him, but the contact is enough to make his skin prickle. 

“We’re almost to the cave, you’ll be safer in there.” 

Luke tries to open his eyes, but doesn’t make it past more than a squint. 

“Han.” 

“I’m here, Luke,” Han responds. “What do you need?” 

Luke chokes out a sob, “ _Han_.” 

And dammit, if that wasn’t enough to make Han lose his resolve…

“You’re okay, kid,” Han bites his lip, eyes filling with tears. “Look, the cave is right up ahead.”

☾

In the cave, Han finds a good place to sit, lowering himself and Luke to the icy ground. He sits cross-legged with Luke laying across his knees. Han’s arms ache after carrying Luke for so long, but he refuses to let the younger man go. Han holds Luke close to his chest, the vibrations of his freezing body slowing as he adjusts to being out of the storm. 

Han wishes he brought something more than his own body heat along, like a blanket or an extra coat. Instead, all he has to rely on is himself, hope, or luck, or some magical higher- 

_The Force,_ Han thinks.

It’s no secret that Han doesn’t believe in the Force. Hell, it’s never done anything good for him, the only person that made Han’s destiny was himself, but still, the existence of the Force meant something to Luke. And in Luke’s presence, Han witnessed phenomena that could only be supernatural, an explanation that lies beyond his own comprehension. 

So Han holds the side of Luke’s face and closes his eyes, beckoning the Force or some other occult spirit to help him, to help Luke. Luke is supposed to be special to the Force, and if it’s to be believed in, then it couldn’t let it’s golden boy die, especially not in such a meaningless way. Not while he was still so young. 

Han presses his forehead against Luke’s, thinking so hard that he’s partially convinced he’s verbalizing his thoughts. He feels silly calling upon the Force, begging it to do _something_ , but it’s all he has in his desperation. 

“Please,” Han says to no one, possibly to _someone_. “Let him be okay, even if it means I’m not.” 

Han semi-expects for there to be a flurry of magic dust or a vision of a ghost, but there’s nothing but the sounds of his and Luke’s labored breathing. Nothing changes: Luke is still slowly dying, and Han is in shambles. 

Han moves his head away from Luke’s, not wanting his tears to fall on the kid’s face. He cries softly, emotionally and physically exhausted. 

Until Han met Luke, there was no stability in his life. Of course, he had Chewie and the Falcon, but he associated them with the unsteady nature of his life: always on the run, either from the authorities or Jabba or from himself. Luke was the first person to stick around, so eager to shove himself under Han’s wing, looking at him with such adoration as he told stories and just merely _existed_. Han found it annoying at first, never knowing someone that had such a desire to stay, but once he got used to the feeling he didn’t want to let it go.

And here he is now with the first person to capture his heart dying in his arms. The worst part is that there’s nothing more Han can do, his hands are tied. 

Luke shifts in Han’s grasp, snuggling closer into Han’s chest. Han holds him tighter, Luke’s balled-up fists pressed against his stomach. 

“Yoda,” Luke says, shivering. “Have to go to Dagobah.” 

“Not right now you don’t, kid,” Han replies, resting his head on the top of Luke’s hair. “We have to make it out of here first.” 

Luke squirms, “Tired.”

“I know,” Han squeezes his eyes shut. “I know, but you have to keep fighting.” 

With a groan, Luke moves his arms from the inside of his chest to Han’s waist. Han wants to oblige at first, asserting that Luke would be much warmer if he kept his arms between them, but the way Luke’s squeezing him tighter is enough to keep him from protesting. At least for a little while. 

“You’re going to make it, okay? If none of the shit we’ve been through has killed us, then neither will this cold,” Han pulls Luke closer, so close that he can feel Luke’s heartbeat through their parkas. “You have so much left to do, you’re a hero to the rebellion, Hell, a hero to _me_.” 

And what he says is true. Although Han’s never been one to get mushy out loud, he means what he’s saying. There’s so much more he wants to tell Luke, words he promises himself he’ll say if they make it out of this cave alive. 

But then Han is reminded of the very real possibility that he and Luke will die here, wrapped in each other’s arms as they desperately try to hold onto the smallest semblance of warmth and he will have died without ever getting to say what’s plagued his mind for years, the thoughts that sat on the outer ridges of his mind ever since that night in Mos Eisley. 

“Luke, I don’t know if you can even hear me, but I hope you can,” Han says, his chin brushing against Luke’s tresses. “There’s something I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time, for as long as I’ve known you. Luke, I have to let you know I-” 

Han stops, interrupted by the sound of an engine. _A ship_. 

A rescue. 

Han pulls away from Luke, who moans in response to the sudden movement. Han feels empty at the loss of body heat, not even being able to imagine how much the instant change felt to Luke. 

“I’ll finish that thought later, kid, but we’ve got a rescue to flag down.” 

☾

Upon returning to the Echo Base, Luke and Han are separated immediately. Luke is carried off on a stretcher to the Medcenter with talks of being put into the Bacta Tank, and Han is examined by a medic as soon as they land. The doctor finds no trouble with Han, nothing beyond being shaken up and half-frozen, and she orders him to take a long rest. 

At first, Han objects, “I don’t want to leave Luke, I want to make sure he’s okay.”

“We’re perfectly capable of handling the situation from here,” the doctor retorts. “You need to rest or you’ll find yourself in the Bacta Tank as well.” 

This is enough to make Han retreat. He’s escorted to his quarters by the doctor, which is a good idea on her part because Han Solo has never been one to take orders. Han changes into his sleeping clothes as soon as the door shuts behind him, and the last thing he remembers is settling into his cot. 

☾

Han wakes an undetermined amount of time later. He’s sweating under the heat of his blanket, the warmth finally circulating through his body again. Instead of wondering how long he was out for, Han’s first thought is about Luke and how his recovery is going. 

Once Han showers and gets dressed, he’s bounding down the halls of the Echo Base. His muscles ache as he makes his way to the Medcenter. Han knows he should be taking it easy, but nothing could stop him from making sure Luke’s condition is stable. 

The moment he opens the door to the Medcenter, the receptionist is out of her seat, looking at Han with wide eyes. He doesn’t even have to ask before she speaks.

“I can take you to him, Captain Solo. You did a courageous thing.” 

Han nods humbly, accepting the compliments as he moves toward the young woman. She takes him down the hallway, all the way to the last door on the left.

“Commander Skywalker might be a little spacey, but he’s in good condition,” She says. “Do you feel alright?” 

“We’ll see,” Han responds, and the receptionist let’s him in. 

Han enters the room by himself, Luke’s chair facing away from the door. Luke turns when he hears the door open, his wide blue eyes relaxing when he sees that it’s only Han. He smiles slightly, like he’s trying to hide it. 

Han squats down and leans an elbow on the arm of Luke’s chair, “How are you feeling, kid? You don’t look so bad to me, you look strong enough to pull the ears off a Gundark.” 

“Thanks to you,” Luke says, smiling freely now. 

Han moves in closer, putting two fingers up, “That’s two you owe me, junior.” 

Luke rolls his eyes fondly, then looks directly at Han, his expression wavering, “Han?” 

“Hm?” Han asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

Considering his next words, Luke closes one eye carefully and bites the inside of his cheek. Han studies him, taking in his lovely, soft features and how they’re now adorned with various injuries. Han lets out a deep sigh, happy to see him alive. 

“I don’t know how to ask what I want to ask.” 

Han blinks, “Take your time, I don’t have anywhere else to be.” 

“What were you going to tell me, back in the cave?” Luke blurts out, looking like he immediately wants to shove the words back down his throat. 

Endeared and bewildered, Han asks, “You… remember being in the cave?” 

“Some of it,” Luke bites his already bruised lip. “I remember you holding me, and how warm it made me feel… and you kept telling me that you had me, that I was going to be okay.” 

“Of course, you’re a fighter, kid,” Han responds. “Always have been.” 

Luke grins at the compliment, “But there’s more. I heard you call me a hero, and then you started to say something, something important, but you were interrupted by the rescue.” 

Han’s heart is in his throat now, remembering that in that moment of pure fear and vulnerability, he was ready to confess the feelings he’d hid from Luke for the entirety of their friendship. Han knew it then and he knows it now, that he’s in love with Luke Skywalker, but the thought of saying it out loud, here… 

His inner conflict is interrupted by a pair of lips pressed against his, lips that are cracked from the cold but still soft at the same time. Luke puts a hand on Han’s cheek, reminiscent of the way Han held Luke’s face upon finding him. Han kisses back, just for a moment before Luke pulls away. Although the kiss is brief, it’s still enough to send flares up Han’s skin. 

They stare at each other for a moment, Luke’s face faltering after a few seconds. 

“Oh, Han, if I got the wrong idea, I’m sorry,” Luke stammers out. “I don’t know what came over me but I-” 

“No,” Han responds, reaching out for the hand that Luke is pulling away. “ _No_ , you were right.” 

Luke smiles at Han’s affection, squeezing his hand, “For as long as you’ve known me? Like you said?” 

Han laughs, loud and uncontrolled, “Yes, Luke, for as long as I’ve known you. There’s no one else I would’ve risked my life for but you. I love you.” 

“I love you,” Luke replies, breathless. “I’m glad it was you.” 

Their second kiss is much sweeter, with Han moving closer and cupping Luke’s chin as he presses their lips together. Luke moves into the kiss, letting go of Han’s hand, moving it to his chest. As their lips find a cohesive rhythm, Han can’t help but grin into Luke’s mouth. Luke laughs, and pulls away. 

Luke looks at Han for a moment, eyelashes dark above the crystalline color of his eyes. His hand is still on Han’s chest, fingers on the collar of his white shirt.

“You know, I’m still feeling a bit cold…” 

Han rolls his eyes, and initiates their third kiss. As he and Luke exchange body heat without the threat of hypothermia, Han knows he's found something stable, something real this time, and he's not going to let go.


End file.
